Never Been This Far Away From Home
by airekuh
Summary: “If she thinks no one cares, then she really will never come back.” That was it, he sighed in relief, that was the reason why he had done this, because he couldn't even imagine life without her. He needed her to come back. Sam/Freddie. WIP.
1. Prepare For Boading

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly nor am I making any money from this.

He checked his watch again. A neon green 12:17 stared back at him. So, it was already past midnight. He could honestly say he'd never thought he'd spend Christmas Day like this.

Freddie drummed nervously on the arm of his chair and observed the few people that were scattered across the chairs around him. Slumped in a seat across from him was a man dressed in a rumpled navy sports coat. His black tie lay in the empty seat next to him, slung across the closed lid of his laptop which he had only abandoned about five minutes ago. Now, his eyes were closed. Freddie briefly wondered if the man had expected to spend the first few hours of Christmas like this, cooped up in an airport terminal, waiting for a plane that seemed as if it would never come. He raised his hand to his mouth and nibbled on his thumbnail, forcing himself to contemplate the story of the man so he wouldn't have to focus on his own.

After several minutes, in which he had moved on to his index finger and then his middle, he finally decided that the man had not expected to end up here on Christmas either. He had almost been swayed the other way after remembering how the man had spent nearly an hour typing angrily on his laptop keyboard and how he had almost obsessively checked his blackberry every five minutes. After all, those were the kinds of things Freddie expected people who spent major holidays in airports did. But, it was the way he had argued with the woman at the flight desk, as if she alone could change the snowstorm that was holding their plane in Montana, that finally convinced Freddie that his man had not expected to spend tonight in an airport, with only strangers to celebrate this most holy of holidays.

No, this man, like Freddie, had thought he would be at home, safe in his bed, surrounded by all the people he loved the most (and some he probably wouldn't admit to loving, but did). He too didn't intend on spending his Christmas here, but that was the thing about intentions, they usually don't come to fruition. Instead, they are cast aside when life catches up with you, when things happen that no one can predict, when you are forced to act in ways no one, not even you, can really understand. Yes, Freddie assured himself, that was surely this mans story.

Just as Freddie was putting the finishing touches on the tale of the man in the blue blazer, the intercom above his head clicked on.

"Flight 784 to Los Angeles has arrived. Prepare for boarding."

Freddie let loose a sigh of relief. They would finally be able to board the plane. He glanced down at the papers that lay on top of his bag in the seat next to him.

"I'm coming," he muttered softly, trying to ignore the fact that it wasn't a good sign that he had begun talking to inanimate objects.

The man across the aisle slipped his tie back over his neck and arranged himself before slipping his laptop into his briefcase and standing up. Freddie noticed his movements and decided that perhaps he too should gather his things.

"First class passengers and those with small children traveling on flight 784 may begin boarding."

Freddie noted a few men staggering up to the boarding entrance and eyed them enviously, what he wouldn't give to fly first class. Then again, that would have meant even more money out of his new laptop fund. He shuddered at the thought and decided first class was probably overrated anyway.

He slipped his jacket on over his shoulders and grabbed his bag, then stored the white pages in the sack. After all, he had read them enough times during his wait that he wouldn't need them in flight. In fact, he'd practically memorized them.

"Rows 14 through 27 may now begin boarding."

Freddie pulled his boarding pass from his pocket and searched for his seat number. He finally found it: 15A. He grinned triumphantly. He'd just made the cut. Sparing a sympathetic look for his sportcoat clad brethren, who would have to wait until the front half of the plane could begin boarding, Freddie headed towards the boarding dock. He showed his ticket to the airline employee, and she waved him through. After a short walk down the hallway towards the plane, he finally arrived at the door. Two stewardesses greeted him and waved him through the entrance. He nodded politely and entered the plane. This was it. This was what he had payed nearly four-hundred dollars for.

His heart beat staccato rhythms against his chest as the weight of what he was doing finally crashed around him. What would his mom say when she woke up expecting them to spend Christmas together only to find that Freddie wasn't there? How would he explain to her why he had to go to Los Angeles? That he didn't really have a choice? He stumbled down the aisle of the plane, his thoughts crashing and his stomach turning. This was crazy. This wasn't his responsibility. This was way beyond his call of duty.

He swallowed hard and forced himself to find his seat, convincing himself that as soon as he sat down he would be able to clear his head. After shuffling past a few of his groggy fellow passengers, he found row 15. He stuffed his bag in the overhead compartment and jammed himself into his seat.

Feelings of panic washed over him again. What had he been thinking? Just buying a plane ticket without any kind of planning or forethought, it was certifiably insane, and it certainly wasn't something Freddie Benson did. He closed his eyes and balled his hands, angry at himself for his impulsive behavior. Did he have some kind of hero complex? What good would he be in Los Angeles, anyway?

He groaned to himself in agony and pressed his forehead against the window next to him. The tarmac sparkled with light, breaking the darkness of the December night. He took a deep breath.

"There had to be a reason I did this." He reassured himself, pushing away the thoughts that screamed, "Y_eah, because you're crazy._"He pulled in another breath. "She needs someone. It's not safe for her there...not alone." Again his thoughts shouted in disapproval, "_Come on, nancy boy. What could you possibly do for her? She could beat you up with one arm tied behind her back._" It only strengthed his resolve, "If she thinks no one cares, then she really will never come back." That was it, he sighed in relief, that was the reason why he had done this, because he couldn't even imagine life without her. He needed her to come back.

He pulled his head away from the window and let it drop against his head rest. He heartbeat slowed and he was finally sure that he had done the right thing. Before long, Freddie's eyes were gently dropping closed. He didn't wake up to hear the pilot announce that they would be taking off in five minutes or to watch the stewardess go through the safety procedure. He simply slept, his dreams easing the worry that had woven into his mind over the last four hours when he had been forced to deal with things way beyond his age. As Freddie slept, his cheek pressed against the glass of his seat's window, the plane shuttled through the air, across Washington and Oregon until they were flying across California, speeding ever closer to Los Angeles.


	2. LAX on Christmas

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly or these characters. I am not making any money from this work.

Freddie dreamed of sunlight and the rocky Seattle oceanfront. It wasn't a place concocted in his subconscious, unlike most dreams. No, he dreamed of a real place connected to a real memory. It was one of the few memories of the last eight months involving Sam that Freddie wasn't ashamed of, although for some reason, he had a feeling he should be.

----------

"_Come on, Fredward. Don't be scared of a little dirt." Sam hopped from one rock to another, her movements were those of a dancer's, the crash of the ocean's waves her orchestra. _

"_I'm not scared o__f dirt, you know," __he finally called to her, stumbling over the rocks that she had so easily pirouetted across. "It's the possible broken bones and loss of blood that worry me."_

_ Her__raucous__**l**__augh sounded over the symphony of the sea. "Let's go. It's not much further." _

_ He gave only a grunt in response, trying to focus more on just how she had crossed over the treacherous passageway and less on the way her calves had tightened and stretched with each step or how her shirt had risen up just so, giving him a glimpse of the milky skin underneath_. _After several attempts, in which he had been forced to reprimand himself no less than six times in order to keep his mind on the task at hand and not on the girl who was waiting just on the other side of the rocks, he finally made it across._

_ Sam slapped him on the back, knocking the wind out of his lungs. "Good work._ _No more rocks, now. I promise." With that, she turned and strode away from him. He followed. After all, what else could he do?_

_ When he caught up with her, she was sitting on the edge of the cliff, her legs swung over the side, gazing out across the ocean. The June sun gilded her hair, lighting up the different shades of blonde. Her pale skin looked even more delicate in the blinding light of the sun, disguising the girl underneath. He bit the inside of his mouth, unsure of what to do. This was all still so new to him._

"_Freddie,_" _she called, turning to look back at him, "don't tell me you came all this way to just stand there."_

"_I just wasn't--," he cut himself off. "I didn't know--," he tried again._

_ She just smiled at him, her blue eyes sparkling with levity. After a beat, she stood. "There's nothing to know. Just get your ass over here."_ _In a few short steps she was next to him. He felt her hand slip into his own, and she tugged him toward the edge. Their fingers still laced, she sat back down. He was forced to sit as well._

_ His pulse raced as he reeled over what to do, how he should act. Then, as though she could read his thoughts, she swept her thumb across his hand, reassuring him that this was okay, that she wouldn't be beating him up for it later. It was an odd gesture, something he never would have expected out of Sam two months ago. Then again, a lot had changed in two short months._

_ He realized he was staring when she turned to look at him. _

"_I know I'm good__looking, Freddie," her words were soft, bemused, "but come on." She jerked both of their hands forward, gesturing towards the waters sprawled in front of them. "We came here for this." _

_ He furrowed his brow. Finally, "Sam?"_

_ She tu__rned to look at him again. "What is it now?"_

_ He swallowed hard and leaned towards her. She cocked her head, amused. Their eyes locked and they stayed like that for a moment. Freddie leaning toward Sam and Sam giving him that look that was both frightening and encouraging at the same time, as if she wanted him to prove to her that he could do this, that he was brave enough. He gathered his strength and moved forward a whisper. His stomach tightened and their lips met. His eyes dropped closed._

_ The pressure of her mouth against his was familiar yet foreign, routine yet remote. Sure, they'd done this countless times, frenzied contact in his bedroom, sloppy caresses in hers, but this time it was different. This time his kiss wasn't driven by hunger or lust. This time he kissed her because he wanted to, not because he needed to. This time his body wasn't in control, instead, his heart was, and though he wouldn't admit it, that scared him a little bit. All too soon her soft lips pulled away from his. He pulled in long draws of the salty summer air._

"_I'm glad we decided to do this," he mustered, his forehead pressed against hers, his eyes still closed._

_ Then, in the split second of silence that followed his words, the moment in which the whole world seemed so stand still, she was gone. The weight of her hand in his disappeared and he was suddenly leaning against nothing. He tumbled forward before catching himself. His eyes flew open, searching for her._ _She was standing a few paces back, her arms crossed and her gaze directed again across the ocean._

_ He could only stare at her, confused. Several times he formed questions on his tongue, but each one died before he could gather the strength to utter it. _

_ Finally, she spoke, "Don't get all sentimental on me, Benson." Her eyes which had been bright and happy earlier were now dark and icy. "It's an arrangement. That's all this," she motioned between the two of them, "is."_

_ He swallowed hard and nodded. "I know." He tore his eyes from hers. "I just wanted to tell you I was glad. That's all." _

_ The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he could feel her scrutiny burning down on him._

"_We should go."_

_ He sighed and looked across the ocean one last time. A breeze blew across his skin, and he noticed that the sun had ducked behind a cloud. It had darkened considerably. He pushed himself up from his sitting position and turned to walk back the way they had come. At the bottom of the cliff, before the menacing rock path, he saw Sam was waiting for him. _

"_Want me to go first this time?" he called as he walked up to her. _

_ She turned to glance at him when he stepped next to her, her gaze pensive. She didn't say anything, but slipped her hand into his again._

"_Let's try it together."_

----------

Just before he and Sam were to take the first step, he was plunged into the land of the living. Someone was shaking him awake.

"I'm sorry, honey, but we've landed. You'll have to get off now." A skinny stewardess with platinum blonde hair and too-white teeth swam into view. Freddie rubbed the sleep from his eyes hastily, embarrassed that he had slept through the entire flight.

"Yeah, sorry. I guess I was just worn out."

Her megawatt teethblinded him when she smiled again. "Well, I hope you have fun in L.A. Merry Christmas, dear." With that she strode down the aisle towards the back of the plane.

Freddie stood hastily and pulled his backpack from the compartment overhead. He couldn't help but scan the rows around him. He groaned. His fears were realized, he had been the last one to leave the plane.

After a couple of minutes Freddie was finally thrown into the fray that was L.A.X., the seventh largest airport in the world. For a moment he was stunned, unable to take in the massive amounts of people that scurried around him. Did these people know it was Christmas? Shouldn't they be at home with their families? Of course Freddie knew that it was likely less than half of the people around him even celebrated the holiday, but that thought didn't come to mind until later. Now, he could only be furious that these people were willingly giving up their chance at Christmas while he had been forced to relinquish his.

He cursed himself again for coming all the way here, for spending his long saved money on a plane ticket, for taking it upon himself to come get Sam.

----------

Knock, knock, knock_. Freddie ambled towards the door after throwing a glance at the clock that hung in his living room. It blinked 3:30 P.M. He smiled, that meant it must be time for Carly, Sam and his gift exchange. He pulled the door open._

"_Is Sam over here already?" Carly pushed past Freddie into the apartment. He closed the door behind her. _

"_No? Why would she come here and not to your apartment?"_

_ Carly turned towards him and stared. He could practically see words forming behind her lips. Mentally he kicked himself. Why hadn't he just said "no"? Her lips twisted as if she were having an internal conflict. Freddie braced himself for the worst. She'd found out. She knew all about the summer and what had happened in October. Hell, she probably knew what had happened in August. Then, as if by miracle, she shrugged._

"_I don't know. I just thought she might be here."_

_ Freddie let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding in and let a smile play across his lips again._

"She'll probably be here soon. _You know how Sam is, the only time that counts is her time." _

_ Carly frowned, "She knows I have to leave for Yakima by 4:00 right?"_

"_I think so. You did text her and remind her right?"_

_ Carly nodded._

"_Well, I guess all we can do is wait."_

_ They waited, and, of course, Sam didn't show up. Carly left and tasked Freddie with the duty of going and getting her and finding out what was up. _

"_She would have at least called." _

_ Freddie agreed and promised to go and find out what had happened. He hugged Carly goodbye and wished her a Merry Christmas and told her not to have too much fun in Yakima. She rolled her eyes and laughed with him. It was almost like old times, before they had entered junior year and Carly had freaked that she wouldn't have enough extracurriculars, before she had met Josh._ _Then she left, and Freddie decided that he might as well go and find Sam. After all, that was what he always did when Carly left him. _

_----------_

Freddie finally made his way through the crowds of people pouring across Terminal 8. After walking past baggage claim (he applauded himself for not checking any bags, there was no way he wanted to deal with that mess), he was finally released into the dark night of Los Angeles. The warm air felt foreign against his skin, reminding him of the cold, unforgiving winds that were probably rocking Seattle this very moment.

Outside the terminal it was a little more calm than inside. Taxi cab drivers stood at the curb, their trunks open, ready to usher in travelers and whisk them away to anyplace across the city. Shuttles drove past, stopping periodically to drop off and pick up passengers. Freddie checked his watch again. "4:13 A.M," he read to himself, a little shocked at where the time had gone. The flight had taken nearly three hours, and they hadn't left the airport until 12:45. He exhaled a slow breath. His mom would be waking up soon, expecting him to be there, wanting him to open his gifts. His chest tightened.

"Stupid plan," he grumbled and kicked at the cement beneath his feet.

His thoughts jumped back to Sam, to all the time they had spent together, to the way things had changed, and even to what he'd done to her, to what she'd done to him. He sighed. He had to do this. He had to be here.

Then, he did something his mother had told him never to do. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and promptly turned it off. Sam didn't have hers, so he knew it wouldn't be of any use there, and he was sure he wouldn't be able to deal with the constant calls from his mother he was sure to be getting soon. No, it was better if he just turned it off.

He took another deep breath, calming himself and trying to remember that this was the right thing to do. After a moment, he walked towards one of the parked taxis, and nodded at the driver.

"Where you headed, son?" The white haired driver had a thick German accent and wore an argyle sweater with a pair of khaki pants. He walked around to his side of the taxi, his right leg dragging slightly.

Freddie jumped into the car, unzipped his bag, and pulled one of the papers he had been looking at earlier out. "I need to go to 6820 Hollywood Boulevard."

The man nodded at Freddie in his rear view mirror, and they sped off.


	3. Taxi Cab Psychiatrist

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly nor am I making any money from this.

Author's Note: Hi guys! Thanks so much for taking the time to read my fic. I know it's been a while since my last update, but I'll try to updated more consistently/frequently in the future. Also, this is a WIP, so feedback really does help me get excited about writing. Hope you enjoy. Also, thanks to civiltwilights over at livejournal for a beta read. She is awesome, and I couldn't do this without her.

----------

_ "Sam, you should know by now it doesn't matter if you don't answer the front door. Locks tend not to work after a certain you-know-who has picked them so many times."_

_ Freddie nudged open the door to Sam's room and slipped inside. The floor was littered with clothes and Fat Cake wrappers. In one corner was an electronic keyboard. Freddie couldn't help but smile at the instrument. He walked over and flicked the switch to turn it on. Then, he pressed his fingers against the keys, tapping out the first few chords of some song that reminded him of the summer. The words of the chorus came to his mind, but he didn't sing them:_

Memories of those words you said,

That song stuck in your head,

That night we lay in bed,

Those memories may go gently into that good night,

But not the feel of your lips on mine

_He swept his fingers softly down the length of the piano, not pressing the keys hard enough to make a sound. This keyboard used to belong to him. His mother had given it to him for his eleventh birthday, along with a years worth of piano lessons. He'd given it to Sam for some reason he would now deny, and she'd made it her own. Now, each key had a different sticker pressed onto it. Girly Cow stared up at him from middle C, and Jackson Colt's insignia was stuck to the very lowest F key. The sharps and flats each had a yellow star. He played another note and turned away from the piano._

_ "Come on! I'm already in your room." His voice rang across the house. He didn't care, her mom wasn't home. He took a few steps away from the piano and began fingering the papers strewn across her desk. __"I'm touching your stuff!" _

_ Then, some words on the page beneath his hand__caught his eye: _Flight 654—SEA to LAX; December 24th, 2011—Departure scheduled for 4:30 p.m._ He stared at the page for a minute, absorbing it. Finally, it clicked._

_ "Sam?!" He yanked open her door and flew down the hallway, flinging open each door in an attempt to find her. "Sam, where are you?" His voice was strained, reflecting his dread that she was gone. Finally, he crashed through the door to her mother's room. It was the one area in her house that he'd never been in. _

_ He blinked, surveying the room. Unlike Sam's, her mother's bedroom was barren. Drawers lay empty and discarded on the floor, as if their owner had pulled them from their places, dumped their contents out, and abandoned them. His brow furrowed, and he took a few steps further into the room. From there, he could see that the closet had been emptied as wel__l. Its door stood open, as if it was waiting for someone to replace all the things it had lost._

_ Immediately his thoughts jumped to the worst possible conclusion. Sam and her mom had left. They were gone, forever. His stomach clenched. It was too much to even think about. He stumbled back down the hallway to Sam's room._

_ He pushed the door open again, leaning on the handle for support. For a moment he just stared, his thoughts frenzied with the fact that Sam was gone. Gone, the word resounded in his mind. Anger welled up inside of him and he crossed the room, determined. He kicked the desk that he computer sat on. His foot met the hard wood again and again, but he ignored the dull ache in his toes. _

_ Then, the computer came to life. The jerking must have shaken the mouse. __Freddie stared at it. The web browser was open to an e-mail. He sat down to read it._

_----------_

At first Freddie thought his ride to Hollywood Boulevard was going to be quiet, that it would give him more time to second guess his decision to come after her. Then, after fifteen minutes of silence, the old man decided to break the ice.

"Fredward is a pretty funny name."

Freddie sighed and slumped against the window. "I know." After a beat, he whipped his head toward the driver, "How did you know my name?"

The old man let out a low laugh. "Saw it on your bag."

Freddie nodded and sank back into his seat.

"What brings you to Los Angeles? You visiting family for Christmas?"

For a moment Freddie wished he was Sam, then he could have just ignored the man, told to worry about his own business and leave him alone. Unfortunately, he was not, and his mother had raised him to treat people with respect.

"I'm here to help my—", he hesitated for a moment, searching for the right word to describe what Sam was to him now, finally. "My friend."

----------

_He dropped the keyboard on the floor of Sam's room, thankful to fina__lly shed the weight._

_ "You could have helped you know." Freddie grumbled._

_ "But what would be the fun in that? Besides, I like seeing you get all sweaty."_

_ He swatted a drop of sweat away from his forehead. _

_ "I am not all sweaty. People don't get sweaty in May."_

_ She only laughed._

_ After a second trip, he had all of the things they would need for the day. He set up the piano stand and placed the keyboard gently on top of it. Then, he fished behind him for the wires to connect the power to the instrument. Sam sat on her bed with her legs folded, sipping a juice box. _

_ He plugged the cord into the back of the piano and flicked the switch. Testing it, he pressed down a few keys. The sound played through the speakers._

_ "Ta-da." He smiled up at her. _

_ Sam hopped off the bed and pulled a chair up to the keyboard. Freddie grabbed another and sat next to her._

_"Are you sure you want to do this? It's not as easy as it looks."_

_ Sam pursed her lips at him._

_ "Just because something is hard for you doesn't mean it's hard for all of us, especially not those as naturally gifted as me."_

_ He just shrugged and began the thankless task of teaching Sam Puckett how to play the piano._

_ It took only forty-five minutes for Sam to declare that piano was for nubs and since she wasn't one, there was no way she could stand to play._

_"Come on! I brought this all the way here. Do you know the kind of looks you get riding the bus with a full sized keyboard? Not good ones!" _

_ She just shrugged, "Nothing I can do. The facts are the facts."_

_ "Yeah, well, it's staying here."_

_ She didn't respond. Instead, she got up from her chair and strode towards her bed. Then, she lay down. For a moment he just stared at her, thinking that she was just going to fall asleep and forget that he was even there. However, before he could voice his outrage, she propped her head up with her hand and looked at him. He knew what that look meant._

_ "I can think of something that isn't for nubs."_

_ Freddie swallowed hard and threw a glance towards her door. It was closed, but just outside and down the hallway from it was Sam's mom. He looked back at her. She raised an eyebrow. _

_ After shooting another glance at the door, he mirrored her previous actions and moved across the room to her bed. He, however, did not lie down. Instead he sat on the edge, staring at her intently._

_ It was only two weeks ago that Sam had come to him and suggested that they make an arrangement. After all, dealing with Carly and Josh and their obsession with constant contact had made both of them all too aware of their Significant Other Situation, or lack thereof.  
An outsider would think that nothing between them had changed. Sam still stole most of his lunch, and he still practically wrote her English papers for her. But now instead of spending their free time playing Call to War 6 (the one game Sam didn't always beat Freddie at) in Freddie's living room, they hid behind closed doors and learned things about each other that no one else knew. It was odd, but there was something nice about it. It was certainly nicer than watching Sam's blow up his virtual head, and definitely nicer than watching Carly and Josh.  
Still, he still wasn't sure how this all worked. He figured he would just wait until Sam decided it was time. It had gone well so far, but it still made him nervous. That was why he was sitting on the end of the bed, not sure how to proceed. _

_ "Come on." She finally said, her voice quiet and demanding, and that was his cue._

_ His mouth found hers almost instinctively. Her tongue teased against his lower lip before slipping inside to taste his mouth. Every inch of his skin tingled and he grasped at her clumsily, still not too good at this. He just knew he wanted, no, needed to feel her against him. After several moments, their lips broke contact. He panted softly as his eyes fluttered open to look at her. _

_ Some how during the course of their kiss he had ended up underneath her. She was straddling his hips. He willed himself to stay calm and tried to ignore the heavy heat of her body against his._

_ She laughed and stared down at him. His cheeks burned under her scrutiny_**,**_ and he was convinced that he had finally messed it up. Then, she dipped back towards him and kissed the corner of his mouth, then along his jaw, and finally down his neck. He groaned as she tasted his skin. His hands slipped under her shirt and danced along her lower back until he grasped, pulling her hips into his. The pressure and sensation forced his hips off the bed, and he felt himself stiffen. She continued to kiss his neck, but her hands also slid down his body. She tugged at his shirt and pulled it over his head, breaking her connection to his neck for only a few seconds._

_ Her ha__nds slid down his chest again. He could only gasp in response._

_ Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. _

_ Freddie's eyes widened and his heart pounded against his chest. This was it; this was how he would die. Sam's mom would walk in, see them, see what they were doing, and then kill him. Funny, he always imagined his death with more explosions and on a spaceship._

_ "What do you want, Mom?" Sam's voice was even and natural. He gaped at her, unsure how she could be so calm and collected after what they had just been doing._

_ He stared at the door, waiting for it to open, sure that they would be found out at any moment. _

_ "It's almost seven, Sam. You need to drive me to bowling league."_

_ "Okay, I'll be there in a minute."_

_ Sam's mother's footsteps echoed as she walked back down the hallway. Freddie let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding._

_"Well, looks like we live to die another day." Sam punched him in the shoulder and got off of him. They were back in friend mode, and he was all too aware of the fact that he wasn't wearing a shirt._

_ He scrambled for his polo and slipped it on, trying to ignore the fact that his pants were now uncomfortably tight. He felt eyes on him, and he looked up at her._

_ She smiled and laughed again. He was starting to get really tired of all that laughter. Why did she have to do that?_

_ "Well, Frederly, see ya tomorrow." She pulled open her door and motioned for him to leave._

_ He stared at her for a minute, hating how confused she made him, hating how she always laughed at him, hating how he'd ever agreed to this. He grabbed his shoes and made to leave._

_ As he passed by her she inhaled sharply. "Whoa, wait a second."_

_ He stopped._

_ She reached for his collar and pulled it back. Then let out a guffaw._

_ "Oh, man. Can't wait to see how you're going to explain that to your mom."_

_ He groaned and shoved past her._

_ "Thanks a lot." He couldn't block out her reply._

_ "You know you like it."_

_----------_

He caught the old man looking at him in the rear view mirror.

"So when did you fall in love with her?"

Freddie closed his eyes and cursed inwardly.

"What are you talking about? I don't love her. We're friends."

The old man uttered a sound that was like an agreement, but more like a laugh and nodded at Freddie in the mirror.

"That's what I thought too, but after thirty years of not being in love with the same woman you begin to realize that maybe love isn't what you thought it was at first. I can tell you that love isn't never getting into spats and always liking the same things. It isn't someone who always tells you you're right. No, love is someone who will give it to you straight and yell at you and make you better than you already are."

The man drove on silently for a few moments then. It was like he knew that Freddie needed some time to think about what he had said. Maybe he was right, maybe that _was_ how love worked. Then, he spoke again.

"Don't worry, boy. She might think she doesn't love you now, just like you think you don't love her, but one day, it might be tomorrow, it might be in fifty years, she'll realize you were the best thing that ever happened to her. After all, it must take someone with a whole lot of love to give to travel all the way here just because you care."  
Freddie didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. How could he be in love with Sam? She was the one thing in his life that was a mess, the one person who he couldn't predict. She was crazy and rash and out of control. She didn't follow the rules or back down from a fight. Besides, he decided, it really didn't matter if he loved her or not. He already knew the ending to that story, and it didn't turn out well for him.  
"Here we are, 6820 Hollywood." The old man got out of the car and popped the trunk. Freddie met him at the end back of the car and took his backpack.  
He smiled, pulled some money out of his pocket, and paid him.  
"Thanks." He took a few steps toward the curb before turning around to look back at the old man. He was just sitting down.  
"What's your name? I don't think I got it."  
"Harvey." The man smiled again, the corners of his eyes wrinkling, "Good luck with the girl, Fredward. You'll both figure it out sooner or later." He nodded knowingly and closed his door. Then, he drove away.  
Freddie watched the cab until it turned, recounting all the things the driver had told him. It was strange, leave it to him to get the only cabbie in L.A. who just might know what he was talking about.  
He turned towards the building he was standing in front of. It looked worse than he had expected. The paint of the walls was chipping off and the steps up to the building were cracked. The building was four stories tall, and each of its windows were barred. Over the threshold of the building hung an old sign that read "Hollywood Youth Hostel" in faded yellow letters.


	4. Hollywood Youth Hostel

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly or these characters. I am also not making any money from this.

Author's Note: Hey, readers! Sorry for taking so long on the update for this, but the holidays made me pretty busy. Anyway, you can expect more timely updates on this story. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

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Freddie pushed through the door of the hostel. A bell rang over his head, signaling to the people inside that someone had arrived.

The room he entered was small, smaller than any lobby of any hotel he'd ever been in. Then again, he mused, a hostel is a far cry from a hotel. The walls looked as if they had once been white, but the grime of a thousand teenage hands had turned them from the shade to something like the color of smog. The room had three doors: the one he'd entered from, one which had a sign that read "Employees Only," and another which he assumed lead to the heart of the hostel.

"Welcome to the Hollywood Youth Hostel." A bored looking woman sat behind a tall desk, an ancient computer on the smooth surface in front of her. She flipped through a magazine, not even pausing to look up at Freddie. "Do you have a reservation?"

Freddie frowned. "No, I'm actually—."

She cut him off. "If you don't have a reservation you have to fill out these forms." She pulled a clipboard and a stack of pages from out of nowhere, it seemed, and held it out for Freddie She held it out for Freddie. "Take a seat and come back up here when you're done."

Freddie shook his head, "I don't want to stay here. I'm looking for someone."

The woman finally tore her eyes away from her magazine and set down the clipboard. "I don't think we're allowed to give out information about people staying here."

Freddie frowned and studied her face. She couldn't have been over thirty. Her skin was smooth and tight, with only the whispering of frown lines forming in her forehead. "Can you just tell me if you've seen her?"

He frowned deeply as her gaze slid towards the door marked "Employees Only".

She chewed her bottom lip, nervous. Finally, she looked back at him, and spoke. "Okay, you don't look like a stalker or a rapist or whatever, so I'm going to help you."

Freddie grinned, relieved. "Thank you." He slipped his PearPhone out of his pocket and thumbed to a picture of Sam. His gut wrenched again as he stared at the image. He'd taken the picture in his room back in August. She wasn't smiling. Instead, she looked affronted. Her hair was wild and messy, and she was wearing a black Galaxy Wars t-shirt, his Galaxy Wars t-shirt.

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_ Freddie collapsed against Sam, drawing in deep breaths of air. That was it. They'd done it. His mind raced, calculating the implications._

"_Ow, get off of me. You're heavy." Sam pushed at his chest, forcing him to roll off of her._

_ Freddie turned in the bed to stare at her, his nerves still dancing in the afterglow. "Really? That's the first thing you say." He buried his head in the space between he shoulder and her neck and closed his eyes. "Not very encouraging, you know," he said, his voice muffled._

_ Sam didn't say anything. Instead, she turned towards him as well, forcing his head to drop onto the pillow. He opened one eye at her and blinked owlishly. Her face was blank, unreadable. Both of them were quiet. Sam lifted her hand and ran it slowly down Freddie's side, her fingers warm against his skin. He closed his eyes again, absorbing the feeling. Then, her fingers were on his cheek, tracing the contour of his face, then the nape of his neck. She tangled her fingers in his hair and kissed him tenderly. First his bottom lip, then his upper, until her tongue pushed gently into his mouth. After a moment, she pulled away, but left her fingers stroking gently in his hair. _

_ Freddie opened his eyes and looked at her. She stared back at him, her forehead crinkled in thought. He swallowed hard. Things were different now. She'd said they wouldn't be, but they were. The way she was acting, she'd never been like this before. He searched for the word to describe her new mood. Finally, he landed on it: affectionate. She was being affectionate. He leaned in to kiss her again, to let her know that he didn't __mind. That maybe a part of him wanted this too. T__hat even though it was becoming more than they'd intended, he wasn't scared. Their lips touched, and Freddie slid his arms around her, needing to hold her. _

_ Somewhere in the apartment the air conditioner kicked on, and suddenly Sam recoiled. She shrugged out of his arms and sat up in the bed._

"_Friends with benefits don't cuddle afterwards," she muttered._

_ Freddie stared at her naked back, his thoughts racing for the right thing to say. Before he had time to say anything, Sam spoke again._

"_I have decided," she pulled on her underwear and her pants in one swift movement while speaking, "that I'm going to take this." Without putting on her bra she slid a black t-shirt over her head and straightened it._

"_You do realize that's a Galaxy Wars t-shirt, right?"_

_ Sam shrugged and leaned down to pick up her discarded shirt and bra. "I like it."_

_ Freddie grinned and turned over to his bedside table. He fumbled around for a moment before finally locating his PearPhone. The he turned back, the phone poised in his hand._

"_Say 'cheese'."_

_ She whipped around to look at him, but before she could stop him, he snapped the photo._

"_Bens__on," she growled, catapulting_ _he__rself back to the bed, struggling to take the phone away from __him._

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Freddie held the picture up for the woman. Her face darkened.

"Yeah, I've seen her. She came in late last night."

"Is she still here?" Freddie felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He'd been fearing the worst: that Sam was wandering the streets alone, that she'd been kidnapped or robbed. To hear that she was safe here made him feel like everything was worth it.

"No."

His stomach dropped.

"She got kicked out last night, for fighting."

Freddie slammed his fist down on the desk. Hot tears of anger stung at the corners of his eyes. "Why would you do that?" he choked out. "Where was she supposed to go?"

The woman shook her head. "I'm sorry." Her voice was quiet. "We have very strict rules about fighting. There was nothing I could do."

He swallowed hard. "She's only eighteen." His voice was quiet, the reality of the situation dawning on him. His anger was replaced with dread as all the terrible situations he'd imagined came rushing back. "What if she's hurt? What if she's--." He let out a sob and sank to the ground. He couldn't even imagine it, that Sam could be dead.

His tears were coming fast now and he covered his face with his hands. This was it. This hostel was the last thing Sam had left open on her computer. It was his last connection to her. Now, he had no leads, no ideas, no chance to find her in this city of millions. She was lost. It didn't seem possible that she could be gone, that this was it.

He felt a warm hand on his arm and looked up. The woman had come from around the counter. "I'm sorry," she pulled her hand away from him, "but you're going to have to leave."

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Author's Note 2: Thanks for reading! Please review. It really does mean a lot to me.


	5. Getting In and Getting Out

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly and I'm not making any money from this.

A/N: Hey guys! I know it's been a while since I last updated this. Sorry about that. Anyway, hope you like this.

Freddie recoiled from the woman's touch.

"Don't touch me." His voice was louder now and laced with venom. Anger boiled in his blood as he pushed himself up off the floor. "You don't get to comfort me while you're kicking me out or after you send my--" even in his anger he stumbled for the right word, "Sam out there." He jabbed his index finger in the air, pointing towards the door. "She's by herself in a city she's never been in before." He was shouting now, and the woman was holding her hands up defensively. Instead of looking at Freddie her gazed was trained on the "employees only" door.

"Please, please just be quiet."

"No! No, I won't be quiet." He was forgetting that the woman had helped him, that revealing what she knew about Sam was putting her job on the line. "If she's dead it's your fault. You might as well have pulled the trigger." The woman winced, and the monster roaring inside Freddie's brain rejoiced, glad that he wasn't the only one that was hurt.

The anger that had been building up over the last ten hours was finally spilling out of him, and this woman was getting its full force. He was angry at Sam for leaving, angry at Carly for being gone, angry at himself for coming here, for taking part in this wild goose chase.

"I'm sorry, but I've helped you all I can. I really just need you to leave now. Please, Ms. Price, she's crazy. She'll fire me. Just—."

"Natalie!" The woman's head drew back as if she had been slapped and she paled. Freddie drew his eyebrows together and turned towards the source of the name. The "employees only" door had been thrown open, and in the doorway stood a short, wrinkled old woman with a fanny-pack slung around her waist.

The woman stepped from the egress, moving towards Freddie. He only stared at her, his mouth slightly open in shock. He had never seen anyone quite like her, but the receptionist was right, she did look crazy.

Her gray hair was separated into two long, thick braids which hung down her back vaguely reminding him of an ancient Pocahontas. Still, as much as her hairstyle reminded him of the Native American princess, the pink and purple windbreaker she wore broke the effect expertly. A pair of too big sweat pants completed her haggard ensemble, their wrinkled and gray appearance looking a bit like the skin of an ancient elephant he'd seen at the zoo during a fourth grade field trip. Despite the deep lines that marred her nearly translucent skin, she had a distinctly young feel about her. She didn't wear glasses or walk with a limp, and the way she'd spoken, how she'd shouted Natalie so clearly, he could already tell her personality was electric.

"Ms. Price. I'm sorry. We didn't mean to disturb you. This gentleman is just leaving." The receptionist's words broke the spell the old woman had cast over him, and he looked back at Natalie, not sure why her voice sounded so meek, so nervous. "Turns out we don't have the right accommodations for him today." She shot a glance over at Freddie and made a little motion with her hand suggesting he should leave now.

But now that he had adjusted to the strange appearance of the old woman, his anger swelled up again. He rotated back on his heels to look at the woman face on. "Do you own this establishment?" He didn't wait for her answer. "Because if you do I hope you're aware of the fact that you have put a girl's life in jeopardy, and if Sam ends up hurt or lost or anything I'll hold you in full responsibility." If he'd been less angry he'd have probably registered the fact that he sounded eerily similar to his mother.

The woman had no reaction; she simply stared at Freddie, her face devoid of expression. After a moment, she shot her eyes towards Natalie. "What is this boy going on about?" Despite her age her voice was smooth as mahogany.

"He's crazy." Natalie quipped. "I'll get rid of him." Natalie walked purposefully towards Freddie and latched onto his collar. "Let's go," she whispered, yanking him towards the door.

"No!" Freddie shouted, resisting her pull. "I want her to take responsibility for this! If you own this dump you have a duty to your customers."

The woman raised her left hand and the receptionist stopped trying to pull Freddie out the door. "Natalie, isn't Sam the name of the girl we had to ask to leave last night?" It sounded less like a question and more like an accusation.

Natalie looked a Freddie pitifully as if to say 'you've done it now'.

He felt a twinge of guilt and frowned. He tried to remind himself that he shouldn't feel bad, that this woman had been a part of kicking Sam out.

"Yes, Sam is one of the girls who were fighting last night." Natalie let go of Freddie's collar and he straightened up.

The old woman nodded in understanding and pursed her lips. "And how is this young man connected to her?" She looked over Freddie, her eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

"He's looking for her."

"She ran away from home." He explained. "She's from Seattle."

Ms. Price frowned as if she were contemplating something. Finally she flicked her eyes towards the receptionist. "Natalie, do you know the house where Calvin stays?"

Natalie's forehead wrinkled, "Yes, but what does that have to do with—"

"Give this boy the address."

The receptionists opened her mouth as if she wanted to ask why, but thought better of it and scurried behind the desk to find the information.

"Last night after she got kicked out, she left with Calvin. He's a, well, a sort of regular around here."

Freddie felt the knot in his stomach release slightly, but a part of him warned not to get his hopes up. "Do you think she's still with him?"

Ms. Price's gaze turned stony, "Calvin's not the kind of guy girls tend to walk away from."

Freddie stood on the curb and looked up at the house. Natalie had given him the address to Calvin's and told him to be careful. When she'd said that he hadn't been sure why, but now that he was here he understood.

The house was an eyesore. It looked like the kind of place drug dealers lived in on television shows. Siding was sliding off in some spots. In other places it blared obscenities and gang symbols in fading orange spray paint. The two windows on either side of the door were boarded up. Freddie ventured a guess that the rest would be blocked as well. The grass was overgrown, the cement path to the front porch barely visible.

Freddie drew in a long breath of air and marched up to the front door resolute. The porch sagged under his weight, and he briefly panicked that it would collapse. Still, he made it safely to the front door and, before he could think twice, rapped on the decaying wood.

It was several long seconds before he heard anything else. Then, several things happened in quick succession. First, he heard a shout through the door, but he couldn't make out the words. Then, another voice shouted back to the first. He couldn't make out what the second person said either. It was a couple more seconds before he heard anything after that, but then he heard footsteps approaching the door. Finally, the door cracked open.

"Wha' do you want?" He couldn't make out a face through the small opening, but from the deep gravely tone of the voice that had spoken Freddie was sure the man who had answered must be seven feet tall.

"I, um, I'm here--." Freddie swallowed hard and started again. "Is Calvin here?"

The man let out a little snort of disbelief. "You're here to see Calvin?"

Slowly, the door opened. Where Freddie expected to find a giant stood a man who could be no taller than five feet. He wore a dirty white tank top and baggy black jeans. His hair was cut short, and the words "la araña." were tattooed across his collarbone.

Freddie swallowed hard. La araña, the spider, he thought. His mind was flooded with images of his mother, wishing she could save him, and his hand jumped almost instinctively to his phone. His stomach tightened remembering that it was off. He couldn't help but imagine all the things this man could do to him. Why did they call him the spider? Did he strangle his victims? Inject them with something that made them immobile before killing them? He felt his heart racing.

"You gonna sell for Calvin at the college?" The tiny man smiled at Freddie, revealing a set of decaying teeth.

Freddie tried not to stare. "Yeah, yeah, I'm going to sell for him." His heart was racing. He knew he should lie, but he was afraid if he told the truth the man might not let him in.

"You look a little clean to be dealing." The man spit. Freddie grimaced. "Guess that's better though. They never suspect the momma's boys."

He stepped aside to let Freddie into the house. Freddie nodded at him in thanks and entered. When the man closed the door behind him he felt his heart beat even faster.

The room he had entered smelled damp, like mildew. There was a broken down couch with ripped cushions in one corner. A big screen television sat across from it. On the screen two people were having sex. Freddie's stomach clenched and he looked away, scared of what he would see if he watched for too long. In the other corner there was a round table. It was littered with trash and empty liquor bottles. He felt hot dread slip down his spine when he saw some used syringes lying in a heap next to a dirty ashtray.

"Go on," the man shoved him towards the hallway off the room. "Calvin's back there, the door on the left at the end. I'd knock first though, man." Freddie looked back at the man who raised his eyebrows suggestively. Freddie grimaced.

"Yeah, thanks."

He took a few steps down the hall, the reality of what he was doing sinking in with each footfall. What was he thinking? He'd just come into a drug dealer's house. This was not going to end well. Still, the chance that Sam was here, that he'd finally found her, it was too much. He couldn't turn back now, not when he'd come this far.

He reached the door that "la araña" had directed him to, and he pulled a shaking hand up and knocked.

"Come in," called back a deep voice almost immediately.

Freddie grasped the knob tightly and turned, pushing the door forward.

His breath caught in his throat when he took in the scene. There, on the bed, wrapped around who he could only assume was Calvin, was Sam. Sam. _Sam_. His brain was void of any other thought. Sam. He'd finally found her.

A/N2: Thanks for reading. If you liked it leave a review because they fuel my writing fire. 3


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